Trembling Giant (5)
Originally, this Trembling Giant was a forest dying a slow death. New stems should have replaced the ones that had reached the end of their lifespan, but an increase in herbivores due to ecological distortion, along with indiscriminate grazing from nearby ranches, meant no fresh sprouts could survive. That was why fences had been erected around the forest's edges—a protective measure by the environmental authorities. But truthfully, there was no guarantee such a simple action could revive this ancient woodland.
Yet now, with the heart of the forest right before me, I stood amid the white expanse of a wintry woods and faced tender green buds.
"……."
I had my subordinates hold position while I brushed a fingertip against one of the buds. The forest responded from beyond normal vision with a faint ripple in the mana—a detection of my touch. Though the principle differed from humans, plants too possessed their own form of tactile sense.
On the stump from which the bud had sprouted was a blood-red pentagram, scrawled like graffiti over a sacred painting. There was no beauty in the aesthetics of devil worshippers.
Above, light that had been scarce at the outskirts now filtered down. The fog at the center was thinner, receiving a steady supply of warmth from the periphery through clear convective currents. It was a slow but persistent flow. This had made photosynthesis possible here.
From my observations on the way in, the forest's magic boiled down to two traits: phase transition of water, and binding force over water.
The warmth carried by the fog was likely a mix of solar contribution and incidental heat from the phase transition—the byproduct of physical water compression. In a situation where the circuit's effective operation seemed to comprise barely a tenth, the fact that it had constructed and wielded this incantation so efficiently was impressive.
The soul of this poplar forest—estimated to have existed for at least eighty thousand years, possibly up to a million—was demonstrating power befitting its age.
I could replicate a similar phenomenon with advanced telekinesis, but the forest's magic was fundamentally different. If I could port and refine this still wasteful, simplistic incantation to fit my own circuit, I might become an unprecedented bomb mage with that alone.
"Hyungnim."
Kyung-tae wore a worried expression.
"Is it okay to start a full-on fight here?"
"Why?"
"I'm worried the giant might get pissed if stray bullets riddlin' the tree trunks or somethin'."
That was his concern?
"I've been anthropomorphizing this forest myself, but projecting animal-like thoughts and emotions onto plants isn't appropriate."
"Uh... so you're sayin' it won't react at all?"
"No. It will react. It'll probably try to eliminate the threat if possible. Just—"
I paused, tapping my temple with a finger.
"Just don't box its thinking into rigid frames."
"Ah, got it."
"Think of it as facing an alien lifeform instead. It has senses, emotions, intelligence—but all of it utterly unlike a human's."
Plants lacked nociception, but that didn't mean they couldn't perceive pain. It simply meant the concept differed from animals'.
No better terms come to mind, so animal words it is.
Anyway, Kyung-tae had grasped my intent. Even using the same words, don't forget the essential differences—that was the admonition.
Separately, his concern was one I'd already considered. I pondered what might happen if the forest grew 'angry' or 'confused.' And I decided.
"Proceed with the attack. Brace for strong winds."
"Strong winds?"
"Yes. Right now, that seems to be the forest's only way to express anger."
"Understood."
We had dismantled the devil worshippers' two-man outer perimeter while circling the forest, leaving only the final cluster of Satan's minions at its heart.
In this environment where normal vision had slightly improved, engaging nineteen foes armed with automatic weapons meant preparing for ricochet fallout. There was no better defense than solid cover, but knowing what was coming versus not made all the difference.
Kyung-tae nodded.
"We're ready."
The attack would begin with my shot. I was the only one who could spot the enemy.
Once they returned fire, Kyung-tae and the rest would lay down suppressive fire based on their muzzle flashes.
If I'd known the fog would muffle sound, I'd have brought flashbangs. Shaking off the useless regret, I set the selector to semi-auto, aligned my sights, and mentally numbered targets while running image training.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Best to drop three before they reacted to hits.
With the enemy's head in my sights, I steadied my breath. Inhale, exhale—cutting the out-breath midway to minimize body movement, I calmly squeezed the trigger.
Bang!Bang!Bang!
Two heads exploded, one shoulder penetrated. The third didn't drop. Screams and curses erupted.
I shoved the selector forward and hosed three-round bursts at the panicking rabble.
Brrrt! Brrrt! Brrrt!
Falling stems sprayed debris, mingled with spurts of blood. Two more wounded. 6mm AP rounds piercing steel plate tore into living trunks without mercy.
Whoosh—the fog rippled like waves. Still just a hazy breeze.
The wind from water compression and expansion scattered the mist, blurring normal vision. Amid it, frantic shouts from the devil worshippers.
What the hell?! Who the fuck are you?!
Counterfire started incoming.
Rrrat-tat-tat-tat!
The pitch of the gunfire was different. Its insane rate of fire turned the sharp metallic chatter into one continuous wail. Only after that high chain ended did the low echo register.
But they'd aimed way off. I planted three subsonic AP rounds into the upper body of a half-covered sniper.
The recoil hit my shoulder as red dots bloomed on his forehead, his occiput exploding. Skull shattered front and back, he crumpled to his knees. The rest screamed and unleashed hundreds of rounds per minute.
The momentary firepower was so overwhelming even I had to hunker down. Body armor and helmet were last resorts.
Shake. A fierce gust shoved my back for an instant. If I had to describe it, the forest panicking.
Our stray rounds outnumbered theirs, so the wind favored our side more. Visually, the forest was blind—distinguishing only light from dark. No way it knew the true culprits.
Their barrage, forming a ridiculous wall of lead, hit its limit in under a minute. Not out of ammo—silencers overheating.
"Fuck!"
A monosyllabic curse from afar. Dumping drum mags through those mad guns had to generate hellish heat. Even normal vision picked out the glowing barrels.
Those guns already had a rep for shit suppressor durability.
Brrrt! Brrrt-brrrt!
Kyung-tae and crew endured the fiercer gale, pouring suppressive fire. I pressed tight against my cover stem, securing aimed shots amid the onslaught.
My three-round bursts mixed with the wind roaring in my ears. Damn... one went a full handspan wide. Picked a still-exposing fool, but only shredded an innocent poplar.
Four more triggers, finally drawing blood. These subsonics were a bitch in the wind.
At least the wounded from our fire provided some consolation. Now even the enemy struggled to stay upright.
Branches shuddered wildly in the gale. The fog rolled like waves, shifting density between translucent and opaque.
The devil worshippers were amateurs in combat but fearless to a fault. I lip-read orders from what seemed the leader, repeated loudly over the din for his subordinates without alerting us.
Touching, but...
Brrrt! I cored the flank of a crawler emerging from cover. The diagonal round shredded his gut, ricocheted off the ground, and punched out the other side.
Half the foes, trying to scatter under cover fire for flanking and envelopment, met similar ends to my sustained fire. All but one.
"Not yeeeeet!"
A coke-smeared face leaped up, charging. My shots hammered his crawl path just behind.
Quick aim correction, three-round burst—but
Body reinforcement...!
The devil worshipper's speed from cancer and primitive magic awakening, plus awkward adaptation to new strength, threw off my lead. A straight charge would've hit; fog and wind twisted his path instead.
Click! Empty chamber.
Of all the times! I swapped mags fast, but ducked as the rest unleashed a desperate volley.
Bits rained on Kyung-tae and crew too. But our brief lull fueled the berserker's rush.
Stumbling zigzags—he thought he ran straight, but direction-holding in this fog? No chance.
"Maaah, huff, hngh!"
Gasping, crawling, leaping desperately, the Satanic berserker overshot our line entirely.
"……."
I hosed his pathetic back. Dull thuds followed the shots. He wore armor, but we packed assault rifles with subsonic AP. Light plates stopping pistol rounds couldn't handle rifle AP.
Would've died anyway.
Freshly awakened, he'd cranked power to suicide levels—organs already failing. Multi-organ shutdown from overlimit ability use. Circuit leaks causing cell collapse. Risks I'd drilled into Suyeon and Kyung-tae.
Firepower balance tipped. They couldn't overwhelm us with bursts anymore. Headcount edge remained slim, but ammo was running dry from reckless full-auto spam.
One smashed his red-hot suppressor against a trunk in rage—only one mag left.
We had intact cans and plenty left.
Brrrt! Aimed fire ended another worthless life.
Without their lead storms, individual potshots were far less threatening—especially since we still had suppressors. They couldn't hold aim directions.
Suppressors didn't slow bullets or reduce lethality. Short-barreled Vihri like ours even gained a bit of velocity and accuracy. Plus, reduced flash minimized exposure unless spraying like them.
Why we kept them on till now.
Exhausted devil worshippers debated roughly, settling on a final choice: emulate the fallen berserker with fanatic charges. Violence as virtue, murder as doctrine—no flight in their zealots' playbook.
They smeared drug baggies on faces, eyes fluttering, faces paling, trembling as they invoked their god.
"Aaaarkturus! Dark constellations on high!"
But zeal's glory meant abandoning wind-resistant spots. No choice, though.
Worked for us. I could capture the leader-looking one for a brain scrape.